A Perfect Life
by Lucille Lee
Summary: [DracoHermione] [TimeTurner] [WIP] [Post HBP] Hermione Granger had everything she wanted. Little did she know that her world was about to be turned upside down by Draco Malfoy and a faulty TimeTurner.


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**A PERFECT LIFE**

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"This is soooooooo perfect," crooned Ginny as Hermione showed her the wedding-dress.

"I won't have minded a less deep neckline," muttered Hermione, as she turned towards the mirror with the dress, "but the witch at Gladrags said that simply wasn't possible – the neckline suited the dress. I don't see what difference it would make."

"Don't be a prude, Hermione, you will look absolutely stunning in that dress! Ron's going to be really bowled over!"

Hermione smiled as she packed away the dress. It was a bit of a shock when Ron had asked her to marry him. He had begun to doubt the wisdom of his proposal as Hermione simply gaped at him. It was only when he had begun to pull away that Hermione had flung her arms around him, breathing out an exhilarated "Yes!"

Although many lives had been lost during the war, Tonks' and Bill's among the others, Hermione was glad that both Harry and Ron had come out alive. However, Harry wasn't in a very good condition. He had grown very weak and could hardly remain conscious above four hours. But the news of his two best friends' imminent marriage had made him very happy and his pleasure had favourably affected his health. He seemed to be growing stronger.

Just a few days after her engagement, Hermione learnt that she was pregnant. It was so wonderful to be marrying her baby's father – and to know that the baby was not the only reason for the marriage. Ron was in parts scared, but mostly happy. It was difficult to stomach the idea of Ron becoming a father. But so it was – and everything seemed so flawlessly good.

"Have you found out if it's a boy or a girl?" asked Ginny, as they went downstairs to the living-room.

Hermione and Ron had moved in with Harry in the Godric's Hollow after their sixth-year and were still living with him. Ginny had come to stay with them a year ago to help them take care of Harry.

"No, and I really don't think I want to… it would be much better if it was a surprise, won't it? Plus, it would be greater fun trying to hunt out girls' and boys' name for the baby."

"I guess – but that's only because you are the most patient one around here. If it were me, I'd find out the sex of the baby first thing!"

"What's that? Are you pregnant?" demanded Ron, who had just heard the last part of Ginny's sentence as she entered the room.

Ginny rolled her eyes as she went up to Harry and sat down near him. "I am not pregnant, Ron! And even if I was… well, I'd hardly mention it around you because you are so annoyingly over-protective. Give me a break!"

Ron was to retaliate angrily, but just stopped as Hermione wrapped her arms around him and captured his lips in a searing kiss.

"Get a room, you two!"

Ron and Hermione broke apart, Ron glaring at Ginny.

"Did everyone get the invitations?" asked Harry hurriedly – he was rather tired of Ginny and Ron's verbal duels.

"Yeah, the anniversary of the victory – honestly, I don't see why the Ministry's gushing over it. They were worse than Voldemort! Always wanting to scrap off any good that the Order would do…" said Ginny darkly.

"A bunch of bs, all right. But we've got to go – to show that we are happy that he's been defeated – morale booster and all."

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It wasn't the first time that Draco wondered if it wouldn't have been better if he had gone ahead and continued being a Death-Eater. Breaking his image as an emerging Dark wizard and joining the Order of the Phoenix certainly had its advantages. For one, he hadn't been executed or locked up in Azkaban. For another, the Ministry had spared the Malfoy Manor. Maybe they wanted to avoid the extra trouble of "cleaning up" the Wiltshire Manor on sequestering it. In any case, although he couldn't live with the show and pomp of his childhood days, he was glad that he still had his _ home_.

But the reputation of his family as supporters of the Dark Lord elicited more contempt than fear from the wizarding folk. He hardly got out of his house nowadays. The looks of suspicion and hatred cast his way – whether he was in the Diagon Alley or the Knockturn Alley – made him sick. One would think that he had done nothing at all to help vanquish the Dark Lord.

As he gazed unseeingly at the invitation, the loneliness and emptiness in his life glared at him. He was doomed to live in desolation. He couldn't go back to his old friends and there was no chance of making new ones. There was very little difference between a life in Azkaban and the one he lead now.

Sighing, he got up and went towards his bedroom.

He'd have to go. It would seem all the more suspicious if he remained behind.

Calling out to his house-elf to prepare his charcoal dress-robes, he tried to lock up his desperate loneliness in a remote part of his heart.

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Hermione was beginning to doubt her wisdom in dragging along everyone to the Ministry party. She was so bored with the overly-formal 'Thanks' and 'Congratulations' and monotonously repeating the same thing to same sort of people, that she thought she might burst out crying. Maybe there was a bit to blame on hormones, in any case, she was damn sure that it was more to do with the boring party than anything else.

For the last half an hour, she had been trying to evade Mrs. Weasley. She loved Molly like her mother, but if the woman gave her some more advice about child-raising and the number of children she should have, and planning out her life overall, she'd seriously consider hiding in Africa till things were put right. As she saw her less than a metre away, she hastily moved towards the balcony. It seemed empty. Hopefully, she'd rest there a while. Her feet were aching.

She reached her objective without any interruption. To her luck, there was an easy-chair in the far corner of the balcony. Relaxing in the chair, she thanked whatever Gods had taken pity on her.

It was a soft autumn night. The wind wasn't unpleasantly chill, although a bit cold. She didn't need to cast a Warming Charm. Her mediwitch had advised her to refrain from performing magic on herself. Although pregnancy for a witch was not very physically trying, but magic had to be kept to a minimal level. The moon was a beautiful crescent, allowing Remus to join them at this party.

Her heart ached at the thought of Tonks' death. She had died just after the day he had proposed to her. He had proposed in a promise – a hope of coming out of it alive and together. But fate had other plans.

Small tears rolled down her cheek as she thought of Tonks – and then Bill… Dumbledore… McGonagall… Neville… She was sobbing now, her face in her hands.

In her distress, she did not notice a thin figure move closer towards her.

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He knew he shouldn't have come – he just knew it. There was a certain coldness and aloofness in everyone's manner. Tired of the constant detestation, Draco decided to leave the party. As he moved towards the exit, he spied Potter and a gang of Weasleys around it. Damn his luck. He decided to take refuge in the balcony until less hostile people were near the door.

He had hardly stood staring out at the darkness for a minute when he heard hysterical sobs. Startled, he realized that a woman was sitting on a chair at the other end of the terrace.

As she leaned forward, her face was momentarily illuminated by the lights from the window. It took him only a moment to recognize that profile… it was Granger.

However, she buried her face in her hands, her body trembling as she cried.

He was quite astonished – whatever could _she_ be crying about? As far as he knew, she was one of the celebrated "war-heroes" of the "Golden Trio". None here would be even a millionth part as hostile to her as they were to him.

Not sure what to do, he peaked into the room – Potter and Weasleys still dominated the area near the exit.

He looked back towards Granger and moved towards her, although uncertain as to what he could possibly do. As far as he was concerned, she was just a petty Mudblood (although he won't voice that now). But curiosity got the better of him. What the hell could be troubling the girl when this whole big party was almost for her and her friends?

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Maybe she heard the sound of his footsteps or just sensed his presence. Anyway, she suddenly looked up at him, her sobs dying out as she tried to see his face. She couldn't see clearly in the darkness, but the platinum-blonde hair glistened in the faint light from a far-off window. She knew only one person who had that particular shade of golden hair.

"Malfoy," she whispered, staggering to her feet. What was he doing here?

"Granger." His voice was still arrogant, cold and unfriendly. Some things never change.

She was uncertain as to what she should do or say. How long had he been standing there? Had he seen her crying? She didn't wipe her cheeks… it would just make the fact that she'd been weeping more obvious.

Her head was beginning to ache – it always did when she cried for long. Feeling a bit dizzy, she leaned against the wall.

"So – what's wrong?"

If anyone but Malfoy had asked her, she'd have taken it as concern. But Malfoy seemed as disinterested in her answer as humanly possible.

"Hermione!"

Malfoy turned around quickly. The Weasley he most bitterly hated was standing at the door of the terrace. He now moved quickly towards them. He pushed passed Malfoy, ignoring him with great will.

"Ron," she murmured, leaning into his embrace. Her voice was hoarse from all the crying. Ron curled a finger under her chin and raised it.

Tears. Malfoy.

Thinking as much as he usually did before doing something, he sat Hermione in the chair and whirled round to face the (in his eyes) guilty Malfoy.

"What did you do?" he yelled angrily.

"I don't know what you mean, Weasley."

Deciding that he had enough for a day, Malfoy turned.

However, before he registered what was happening, Ron had spun him to face himself once again and punched his face as hard as he could.

"Ron!"

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"Ron, stop it! What are you doing? Stop it, Ron! Now!"

Draco was painfully aware of the edge of the marble balustrade digging into his back, as Weasley punched his face again, his head hit hard against the cold marble edge and he felt something warm trickle down his neck. He lay limp against the railing, his head throbbing with pain.

"It was not his fault… it had nothing to do with him." The Mudblood sounded quieter and more composed.

"But, Hermione…"

"Let's go, Ron… let's just leave."

He wanted to get up and beat the crap out of Weasley. He wanted to hex the Mudblood to the next century. He wanted to just torture them all till they bled and hurt. But the physical attack had left him quite injured. He wondered if he was still alive.

Gingerly, he sat up, but sharp pain shot down his spine. F Merlin! Had he broken a bone?

A wave of dizziness washed him as he opened his eyes. Something viscous and warm was trailing down the nape of his neck as well as down the front of his face. He flicked his tongue over his lower lip and tasted blood. Hell.

"Malfoy?"

"You've done enough damage already," he hissed out angrily. Last thing he needed was Granger's help.

"I am sorry for what Ron did – he didn't mean…"

"Just go away, Mudblood," he said scathingly, struggling to his feet.

Leaning against the balustrade, he finally looked up. Granger stood less than a metre away. He thought he could detect low whispers not far away. The noise in the hall was slowly beginning to decrease.

"I apologize…"

"Keep your b apologies to yourself," he snarled, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand. "I know just how sincere they are. Anyway, I don't need anything from a Mudblood like you!"

Pushing away from his support, he walked away.

As he made his way towards the exit, he felt his skin burn with the glares directed his way. If he wouldn't have felt pain hammering his head, he'd have personally hexed each of them to Hades.

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Over a week had passed since 'the incident' at the Ministry Ball, but Hermione had been unable to get Malfoy out of his mind. She cringed as she thought of his harsh words. She should have been used to insults from him, but then his manner had changed more than a little when he had turned to the Order. It had been a long time since he had called her a 'Mudblood'.

Ron had merely shrugged when she had clarified everything to him. However, most of the people still believed that Malfoy was somehow in the wrong and it had just made him more hated. She just didn't know what she should do.

When she confessed to Ginny about her apprehensions over Malfoy, the red-head had merely shrugged.

"He deserved it," she said simply.

Hermione thought that he didn't but never said so. Lucius Malfoy had killed Bill. It was to be expected that Ginny hated Malfoy.

Pushing Malfoy out of her head, she concentrated on her work. She was examining the three last remaining Time-Turners. The new head for the Department of Mysteries, Langdon White was contemplating destroying the oldest among them. He had observed that it wasn't quite reliable and its magic was growing unstable. He had asked Hermione to make a report on all.

Hermione placed the small hourglass on a velvet stand and pulled out her wand to cast some spells.

Just as she picked up her quill to note the results, a low buzzing sound emanated from a sparrow-shaped indicator on the opposite wall. Someone was here to see her.

It was rare that anyone came down here. Thinking that it would probably be White, Hermione went to open the door. Her supposition proved correct.

White was quite young for his position as the Head of the second most powerful division of the Ministry. At thirty-two, he also held patent to some of the most powerful Dark Arts Detectors.

"How is the work going?" he asked without any preliminary. He had a thin face and a seemingly weak physique. His voice was hardly above a whisper and his face was almost always drawn in a frown.

"I think, from what I have found through experimentation till now, that Merlin's Time-Turner is indeed growing pretty unstable."

White gave an almost imperceptible nod. "The results?"

Hermione fetched a bundle of parchments.

"I'll take these to my office."

"There was another thing, Mr. White."

"I would like to know some more about this Time-Turner. There are definite indications of instability being caused by Dark Magic…"

"Malfoy."

"Sir?" asked Hermione, startled.

"It is classified information, nevertheless… this Time-Turner was confiscated from the last raid in Malfoy Manor. Malfoy wasn't supposed to have this in his house, of course. Tell you what, Granger, I will call down Malfoy Junior for questioning one of these days. I'd send you a list of my own queries which you can add to the stuff you want to ask. Completely unofficial, of course… just to get a bit of information. I'll send him down this Friday."

"Yes, sir."

She wasn't remotely excited at the idea, but then it was completely possible that Draco Malfoy might be able to throw light on the more academic mysteries of her investigations.

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End file.
